


take care

by minachandler



Series: kiss me like you wanna be loved [43]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e23 The Race of His Life, F/M, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler
Summary: “And if you let me… I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
Set at the end of 2x23. Barry went back in time but his future self stopped him from saving his mother. Distraught, Barry returns to the timeline almost exactly how he left it, and he finds comfort in Iris's arms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fic I've had in mind for a while... I've never written Westallen smut before, but I hope you like!
> 
> Title taken from the song of the same name by Drake/Rihanna.

A knock on Iris’s door rouses her from her semi-slumber, and she sits up in bed, turning on the small light on her bedside cabinet. It's midnight, at least, but she nevertheless gets to her feet, opens the door.

It's Barry. In the dark she can't quite see him properly but even from where she stands she can see the tears glistening on his cheeks.

“Hey,” she says softly, “what is it?”

“Can I come in?” Barry asks, and his voice comes out choked. 

“Yeah,” says Iris, and she steps back, lets him inside, gesturing to the bed. After a moment’s consideration she joins him on it, finding his hand in the dark and squeezing it.

“I… fucked up,” Barry whispers after a few seconds.

“What does that mean?”

“I - travelled through time.”

“Back to the night your mother was killed?” Iris guesses.

“Yeah. To - to save her.”

“Barry -”

“I know what you're going to say,” Barry says heavily, but Iris shakes her head.

“No, you don't.”

“So you're telling me you're  _ not  _ going to say ‘Barry, how could you be so stupid’?”

“I would never say that,” Iris says, and she means it. “But why… why aren't things different?”

“Because,” Barry says, “like I said. I fucked up.”

“I don't understand.”

“I couldn't save her. He wouldn't let me.”

“He…”

“Future me, Iris. He -  _ I  _ \- wouldn't let me save her. Kept saying something about the consequences of messing with the timeline. And I had to stand there, Iris, while Thawne killed my mom all over again.”

“Barry, I -” But Iris breaks off, not knowing what to say. “I'm so sorry, Bear,” Iris whispers eventually, and she's aware of how empty the platitude sounds coming from her. “But you - did the right thing. You know that, right?”

“It doesn't feel like it,” Barry says hopelessly. “I could've saved her, Iris. I could've saved both of them.”

“Last year, I told you to do what was in your heart,” she says. “And you chose not to save her. Not because you didn't care, Bear, but because you cared about all of us.  _ We  _ were in your heart.”

“No,” Barry says. “ _ You _ were.”

Iris reaches out, strokes Barry’s cheek. “And what if, in this other timeline, we didn't know each other?”

“We would have found each other,” Barry insists. “Somehow. I know it. Just like we did on earth-2.”

Iris softens a bit and can't help but smile. “Maybe,” she says, “but that doesn't mean you would have found my dad. Or Wally, or Cisco, or Caitlin.”

“But my parents… they would have both been alive. Alive and well and loved up.”

“That would have been amazing,” Iris says softly. “But don't you remember what you told me last year?”

“What?”

“Your dad didn't want you travelling back in time, not even the first time. He said there was - what was it he said?”

“That there was a natural order to things,” Barry says. “That I shouldn’t mess with it. I know.”

“I know it's the last thing you want to hear, Barry, but -”

“No, it's okay, Iris.” And in the glow of the lamp there's something close to a smile on Barry’s face. “You're not - other people. You're allowed to say it.”

Still, Iris’s eyes fill with tears as she says, “Henry wouldn’t have wanted this. He would have wanted you to keep going. Not to go back and change things. Not when you know what happens when you screw with time - look at Jay.”

“Hunter,” Barry corrects automatically. 

“Hunter,” Iris says, “was ripped to shreds by the - what did you call them? Time wraiths?”

“Yeah.”

“They killed him, Barry. And look, I know, being rational seems like the last thing you want to do right now, but you have to.”

“I wanted to kill him,” Barry says abruptly. “I wanted to do a lot more than that to him. And I made my dad a promise - that I would take from him what he took from my dad. I failed.”

“No,” Iris says, shaking her head and squeezing his hand.

“I just feel like if I'd been the one to kill Zoom, maybe I wouldn't feel so hollowed out inside.”

“Barry,” says Iris softly, “if you had been the one to kill him, Zoom wouldn't have been the only one who lost his soul. You didn't kill him because that's not who you are. It’s not who the Flash is. It's never been who you are, Barry. And I don't know what you're going to do about this - void inside you but I - I just want you to know that whatever happens, I'm here for you.”

“I know you are.”

“And if you let me… I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

Barry sighs, leans in, hugs her tightly. Iris hugs back, acutely aware of the way her breasts are pressed right against his torso, unencumbered by a bra. She doesn't want to let go, though, so she just holds on for dear life.

“You know I love you, right?” he whispers into her bare shoulder.

“Yeah,” Iris says automatically. “Yeah, I do know, actually. But it’s… nice to hear.”

She pulls back a bit, and there's something inexplicably beautiful about the way his face is bathed in the warm glow of the lamp that makes her kiss him. She seems to take him by surprise, and when she coaxes open his mouth she can taste the salt of tears on his lips.

“Iris…”

“I'm sorry,” she says automatically, remembering, now, his words on the porch outside.

“I'm not,” Barry says unexpectedly, and he leans forward, kisses her again with a hunger that catches Iris off guard and makes her breathless. “I know what I said. But I - I need you, Iris. Now more than ever.”

“You can have me,” she says softly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

She kisses him back, just as hard, and Barry’s hand goes to wrap around her midriff and he murmurs, “Is this okay?”

In answer Iris puts her hand on his thigh. “Yes,” she breathes, “more than okay.”

She opens her eyes and they meet his and she sees so much pain there that she wishes with all her heart that she could just kiss it away. 

When he kisses her though it's not the searing kiss she expects. It's the softest grazing of his lips on hers, while his fingers trace her jawbone, working down each cheek before they go to ever so gently shut her eyes so he can press a kiss on each eyelid. 

“What are you doing?” she murmurs.

“Remembering this,” he replies, and he looks askance into her eyes, fingers edging on the hem of her nightgown. She kisses him, then lifts her arms up, lets him pull her dress up and over her head, kisses him again, and there's a wonderful sort of friction between her naked body and his clothed one, the kind that makes Iris shiver - but not from the cold.

Tentatively Barry reaches up, touches her breast, and at his touch her nipple hardens and she whispers his name under her breath. He looks up, meets her eyes, and she nods, letting him dip his head and press a kiss on her breast, then another, then another, tongue swirling around the centre, and all the while with his other hand he's playing with the nipple of her other breast, teasing her, and  _ fuck,  _ he is good at this. 

She gasps when he releases her breast from his mouth, and automatically she reaches down, runs the back of her hand between his legs, making him groan. “God, Iris…”

“Barry,” she whispers back. Iris makes to tug down his pants, but his hand closes around her wrist. 

“You first,” he tells her quietly, and before she knows it he's pushing gently at her shoulders so she's lying on her back, and he's on his knees between her legs.

Barry touches her first with his fingers, through her dampened panties, and Iris gasps when he slips his finger inside, past her underwear and straight to the hot slickness of her centre. 

“Fuck,” he says softly, and Iris repeats the epithet and whimpers when he withdraws his hand and sucks on his fingers. Iris watches him hungrily and there's something surprisingly arousing about him tasting her like that, about the swiftness of him removing her panties and even the slightly awkward moment when they get stuck around her ankle and he has to tug to get them off.

Still he looks up at Iris like he's ready to worship her, and when he gently plants kisses up her thigh she begins to realise why. Barry pauses, just at the inside of her thigh where he lands another kiss, a softly biting one that leaves her gasping. He does it again, ever so slightly sinking his teeth into her skin, and then she feels the scrape of his tongue as it flicks against flesh and then moves up, to her centre. 

And then he  _ hums _ against her, and it's the most unusual yet amazing feeling Iris has ever experienced. She scrabbles for something to hold onto, finds a handful of Barry’s hair. She braces herself against Barry’s mouth, trying to remember to breathe, but when his tongue darts out nothing can quite prepare her for the barrage of pleasure that suddenly courses through her, unfurling - slower, now, steadier - in her groin. 

He hums again, then she can feel the flat of his tongue where she's most sensitive and she groans, unable to hold back a second longer. She tries not to thrust forwards too much into Barry’s mouth, tightening her grip on his hair, trying to hold onto some semblance of control as she trembles, rocks her hips against him. Then she comes with a muffled cry, collapsing back onto the bed while Barry presses soft kisses on her entrance then works his way up her navel, licking away the sweat between her breasts and kissing up her neck and finally, her lips. 

“I love you, Bear,” she tells him, voice thick with emotion. She lies, supine, underneath him while she gets her breath back, then rolls so she’s on top of him. He lifts his arms willingly, lets her take off his shirt, and she takes a moment to appreciate the hard muscles of his abdomen. (It’s not that she hasn’t seen them before, but this is the first time she gets to touch and feel and know.) Her hand wanders lower, and he’s hard for her, which is inexplicably gratifying for Iris. She reaches into his pants and Barry groans softly, kissing her more sloppily this time. Iris doesn’t care, though - in a way it turns her on even more. 

Barry buries his face in Iris’s neck, and she doesn’t stop what she’s doing, her hand moving up, down, up, down, and it’s faster for Barry, much faster, because in what seems like no time he’s thrusting forward into her hand and coming in his pants. 

“God, Iris,” Barry whispers. “I love you. I love you.”

When he looks up and she meets his eyes this time, they’re alight with something that looks like love, and Iris wonders if maybe she  _ can  _ kiss the pain away after all.

**Author's Note:**

> As I say, this is my first time writing Westallen smut and only my second time writing Westallen at all, so if you enjoyed reading, please please please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
